


Silver Lining

by griseldalafey



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Showdown 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 16:53:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3817864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griseldalafey/pseuds/griseldalafey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He marries her so she won't get deported (second round entry)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for the second round...  
> I'm a huge fan of 'they're hopelessly in love with each other, but too scared to open their mouths, but end up getting married for some reason and a lot of woobie angst happens' plot-line, so I loved doing this.  
> The prompts were: Australia, city, liking something too much.

Belle had a scar. Right above the left corner of her mouth and barely half an inch long. A small, delicate trace of silver that he’d noticed straight away the first time he’d met her. Even before he had noticed her eyes. Or the way she smiled.

Belle was a breath of fresh air. A smart, quirky mind amongst the dull monotony that was Storybrooke. Despite the resistance he’d offered - twenty years of habit were hard to break, she’d managed to break down most of his walls piece by piece. They’d become friends, good friends in fact, until one day, over hamburgers and iced tea at Granny’s he had realized with a start that he couldn’t imagine his life without her anymore.  
He had watched from across the table how her little scar had caught the light as she was talking enthusiastically and softly smiled a private smile.

He was glad to be her friend.

* * *

 

 Some time after that, late one evening she had barged into his shop, her eyes wide with fear, tears rolling down her cheeks, clutching a letter send by the Immigration Service. He had read the letter again and again, ranted and raved along with her, but in the end the fact of the matter was plain and simple: her visa had expired and she would be deported back to Australia.

Unless…

The solution had been so simple, so obvious that he had proposed it straight away.

She had been startled by his offer of marriage, but he had swiftly offered reasonable arguments to any reservations she might have.  
It would be a shame to lose such an efficient librarian, he’d told her by way of explanation for getting involved. Her predecessor had left the library behind in a deplorable state and as a member of the council, he was just protecting the town’s best interest by keeping their current, capable librarian from being deported.

To himself he reasoned that his involvement was only a logical course of action. It would be a shame to lose his best friend to the arbitrariness that was the USCIS.

* * *

 

Their marriage at city hall was a businesslike affair. He wasn’t even prompted to ‘kiss the bride.’ But as they descended the stairs of the building, husband and wife in the eyes of the law, he’d felt oddly jubilant.

There was still the interview to prepare for. Not willing to take any risks, he’d told her everything there was to know about him, finding it surprisingly easy to do so once he got going.  And was mesmerized in return by her stories, awed by the realization that out of everyone else in Storybrooke, he now knew her best of all.

The interview itself was a long, grueling affair that left him feeling nettled and somewhat violated in a way.    
When asked to relate a significant childhood event in her life, he told the story of how she had acquired her scar: by falling into a pointed fence on her neighbors’ driveway when she was five years old.

It was a somewhat sad tale, especially when he allowed himself to think about how hurt and frightened she must have been. Yet he ended it with a far-away look in his eyes. “Despite everything, that scar is perhaps what I love about her the most.”

In that moment he could tell from the look in the official’s eyes that he had managed to convince him. The other man believed his lie.

 Only he didn’t believe it was a lie anymore.

* * *

 

In order for their ruse to work, she temporarily moved in with him.

Again, it was shockingly surprising how easily he got used to having her around. The worst that happened was that she broke one of his cups, which he considered to be of little consequence, although he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it away.

Belle pulled his curtains open to let the sunlight in, filled his house with books and flowers, made him wake up to the smell of pancakes and freshly brewed coffee and treated him to the sight of her clad in only rumpled pajama bottoms and a tank top, singing and swaying as she loaded the dishwasher.

He had never talked, laughed, been teased and _lived_ as much as in the two months she’d shared his house.  

And he was quite happy to continue to live like that forever.

* * *

 

Regina Mills destroyed that life. Spiteful, petty and on a quest to revenge a world that had never been kind to her, she tipped the USCIS about their marriage of convenience.

He’d maintained that they could easily counter the allegations, but Belle had been adamant in her refusal of keeping the charade up, pointing out the personal risks to him, continuing to be involved in this scam, not wishing to endanger his position any longer.

He had argued, yelled, even begged in the end, done everything apart from opening his mouth to voice the panic that was growing inside him: that he couldn’t imagine his life without her in it anymore. That no matter how afraid he was of letting her in, he was even more terrified of letting her go.

* * *

 

And so she returned to Australia, on her own terms, because no-one decided her fate but her.

He tried to pick up his old life again, tried to fall back in his old ways, his familiar routine of aloofness and measured aggression. He tried stubbornly, obstinately for months, tried until he was exhausted by the effort of it, worn out body and mind from trying to suppress how much he missed her, how very much he ached for her.

He tried until he couldn’t anymore, until the words he hadn’t said began to eat him from the inside out.

Until he could no longer stand the sight of the unsigned divorce papers lying on his desk, mocking him.

Or to look at the small, chipped cup he hoarded as a treasure, the one tangible thing of her he had left amidst the emptiness.

* * *

 

He clasped the piece of paper that contained her address tightly in his hand and held on to it as he boarded the flight to Melbourne.  All through the anxiety and air sickness, he tried to focus on the memory of her face, of her eyes and that beautiful little, silver scar.

Melbourne was a revelation and as he walked the sunlit streets from the tram to the literary café on Queen Victoria Market where, according to his resources she now worked, his nerves returned with an almost paralyzing intensity.  
Vibrant, alluring, colorful Melbourne was polar opposites from stark, sleepy Storybrooke. This was Belle’s world, this was were she belonged, where she fitted in. There was an easy, carefree atmosphere around him that reminded him so strongly of her that his heart clenched with longing.

Around him he watched young, sharply dressed, successful young men waltz by, next to sun burned, blonde-haired athletic joggers and muscular surfers, dressed in shorts and tanks. The air around him was buzzing with sun, laughter and the noise of life and his hopes faltered.

Belle would have no need for a middle-aged man with a crippled leg who was as dusty as the antiques he tried to sell.  
He suddenly felt like an antique himself, stuffy, out-dated and impossibly old.  
Coming here was a hopeless endeavor, Belle would never return with him.

And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to turn around.  Needing to see her again, even if just once more, compelled him to keep moving until he reached the café.

Stepping inside, he breathed a sigh of relief when the place was cooler, darker and infinitely more quiet. Then he spotted her, standing at a table, holding a small pad she promptly dropped as she saw him, her eyes turning wide.

“Belle…” he started, all of his love and longing slipping into his voice. And then the words dried up in his throat and he stared, helplessly.

A second passed and then she moved, flew at him and his cane clattered to the ground as he caught her, wrapping his arms around her as she crashed against him, burying her nose against his neck. He kissed the crown of her head and pulled her even tighter when he felt her shake against him.

Moments later she pulled back, her eyes moist and dazed. “You came…”

But all he could see was the silver scar above her lip, glimmering in the light and his mouth closed around it, his tongue lavishing the mark until her insisted nibbling on his lower lip became so distracting that he moved to explore her mouth, sighing as she melted against him, her hands moving into his hair.

And then the words finally came back. Pulling away just enough to form them, he drank the answers from her lips.

“Marry me?.”

 _“Yes.”_  

"Come home with me?”

_“Yes.”_

“Don’t leave me again…”

_“Never.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ashadeofpemberley prompted:  
> SilverLining!verse- How are Belle and Gold doing now that they're together again? Is Regina still trying to make life difficult for them?

When she woke up the sunlight was streaming through the windows and she startled for a moment, not understanding why she was in bed in the middle of the day.

Then she became aware of the person behind her who was all but wrapped around her. One hand was splashed over her bare stomach, another nestled between her breasts. A chin was resting on top of her head and her feet were entwined with those of another person.  

A person that was pressed firmly up against her back and Belle sighed blissfully as the memories of that morning washed over her.

Her husband was back. He came after her and he loved her.    
And even in his sleep his was pulling her tightly against him, the warmth of his body enveloping her, making her feel like she was already home.

* * *

 

 When she had first received her letter from the Immigration Service, back in Storybrooke, its contents had immediately send her into a burst of panic.    
Her visa had expired and there was no chance of renewing it. She was granted three months notice to set her affairs in order before she was being deported back to Australia.

When the true meaning of the words had finally filtered through her brain, only one thought had remained: she had to go and see him. She had to see her friend, her confidant before she’d lose her mind.  
He had been equally upset and angry over the unfairness of her deportation and then he had offered her a way out.  A proposal that had knocked the wind out of her and had left her blushing and stammering like a teenager.

He’d asked her to marry him.

For one, wild, ridiculous second she had been over the moon with happiness, almost launching herself into his arms to kiss him senseless.

Then, as he droned on about practicality and besting the USCIS she’d realized he meant nothing more than a marriage of convenience.  
Still, she had grasped his offer with both hands. Being his wife, even briefly and in name only was already more than she could hope for.

The two months she had lived with him had been the happiest of her life. In the privacy of his own home he was more himself, more at ease than anywhere else.  
He could make her laugh until the tears were rolling over her cheeks.  He could send her heart racing with just that little half smile of his.    
And sometimes she dared to hope that he would one day return her feelings. That he too wanted more than a practical arrangement between friends.

* * *

 

She hadn’t counted on Regina though and the gut curling terror she had felt when the woman had insinuated how badly this could end for him if the authorities found out he was enabling an immigrant to obtain a Green Gard under false pretenses.

“A trial would ruin him,” Regina had threatened her. “It would destroy his life, his business and everything he has.”

And then he’d go to jail.

“Can you imagine him in prison?”    
Until this day she remembered the taunt in Regina’s voice. “He’ll be an utter wreck by the time he gets out.”

And so she’d kept herself deaf to his pleas and returned to Australia.

Nobody decided her fate but her.

But she would _not_ decide his fate.

She had cried the entire flight, feeling her heart shatter with every mile she flew further away from him.  

He didn’t love her and this was for the best. In Australia she would forget him.

* * *

 

Instead she thought about him every second of every day. Melbourne was too bright, too sunny, too joyous for her broken heart and ruined dreams.

She’d found a job in a quiet literary café, the tasking job of waitressing a blessed relief in an otherwise wretched situation. At least by the time she fell into her bed she was so exhausted that she managed to fall asleep.

But then he’d appeared at the café, looking every bit a miserable as she’d been feeling for the past months.    
For a long moment, she had been certain that he was merely a fidget of her imagination, but it hadn’t stopped her legs from running towards him. And then she’d been in his arms and he had been warm and real and smelling of rain and books and home.

* * *

 

 She’d been surprised by his declarations and by the trouble he'd taken to fly all the way to Australia to ask her to come back.  

He loved her and he wanted to give their marriage a chance for real. That alone was enough to make her insides sing with happiness.

She hadn’t known how _much_ he loved her, how deeply he desired her though until she’d led him inside the tiny apartment she’d occupied since coming to Australia.  
From the second they’d been inside he had all but devoured her.

The door had barely closed behind them or he’d pushed her up against the wall, his hands moving frantically over her body, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, exploring every crevice of her mouth with a yearning need. For a moment she’d thought he would take her right there against the wall, but when his bad leg started to quiver she’d realized he would never be able to make such a position work with his injured knee.

So instead she had gently pushed him away, keeping their lips locked together to sooth his grunt of disapproval and led him to her bed.  
The studio she’d rented was so small she’d used a bookcase to create a bedroom corner, but all of that didn’t matter when they tumbled in bed together.

Still refusing to break their kiss, he attempted to unbutton the dress she was wearing, but his hands were shaking so badly, he couldn’t manage. So she took over, helping him out of his waistcoat, tie and shirt before pulling the dress over her head.

The look of sheer adoration on his face as his eyes drank in her body caused something hot and liquid to start burning in the pit of her stomach and when his hands touched her, she was sure that this fire was going to consume her.

He practically tore her bra and panties off her, mumbling apologies against her skin as well as reverend whispers of love and admiration and she wriggled and fumbled underneath him until she had him out of his pants and boxers too.  
He was everywhere, kissing her and stroking her until her voice was hoarse from crying out her pleasure.

He brought her to her peak again and again until she could barely move anymore.  And still he hadn’t enough, his frantic hands and lips still searching and finding the spots on her body that would make her fall apart again.

When he was finally sheathed inside her, he was holding her so close that they could only rock together. Sweat was dripping from his brow and he was panting, even as he lowered his lips to her neck and collarbone.

He was terrified, she realized. Afraid that if he let go of her for only a second, she would disappear. So she wrapped her arms around him, carded her hands through his hair and whispered soft words of love and comfort against his forehead.

“I love you.”

“I’m here, I’m really here.”

“I’ve got you.”

“We’re together now.”

Slowly he relaxed, his thrusts becoming slower and deeper, the haunted expression leaving his face.

“My beautiful Belle,” he murmured against the small scar above her lip. “I love you and I’ve missed you so.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she whispered back, her voice breaking on a sob.

“And I’m never, ever leaving you again.”

* * *

 

Lying in his arms now, fear wrapped itself around her heart that she wouldn’t be able to keep that promise, no matter how much she wanted it.

“What if Regina again tries to prove that our marriage isn’t real?” she asked in a small voice.

“Then she will fail spectacularly,” her husband replied with steel note in his voice while cuddling her closer.

“Our marriage is real. As far as I’m concerned, it has always been real. Regina can’t prove a thing!”

Turning her head, she kissed his chest, feeling him shudder against her.  
“As far as I’m concerned too. I married you because I love you. I didn’t want to go back to Australia because I couldn’t bear the thought of missing you.”

“But then why did you go?” he asked quietly, his eyes not meeting hers and the world of pain and rejection she heard in his voice cut straight through her soul.

“Because I didn’t want you to get in trouble because of me,” she explained, rolling on top of him and cupping his face between her hands.  
“They could have pressed charges against you… you could have gone to jail… I couldn’t let that happen… not because of me.”  
The mere thought of it brought tears to her eyes and she blinked hard to keep them at bay.

“Oh sweetheart…” His arms came up around her once more.

“Regina cannot come between us. She knows we love each other, that’s why she tried to get us apart in the first place.”

Pulling her head down, he first kissed the moisture from her eyes before claiming her lips again.

“I’m never letting you go again.”


End file.
